Hobo Digest
I have written some weird faux newsletters in the past, mostly for my own enjoyment and mostly to just talk about Hobos at length. I thought I would post an excerpt here in hopes of pleasing a large amount of people. If this gets even one comment be warned that I will post nothing but these excerpts for weeks to come. I thrive for your digital approval. Now entering a hobo extravaganza…
Hobo Digest: News to Nap On
Howdy there folks. You’ve joined us hobos at just the right moment in time as we have just witnessed a turning point of the hobo civilization. What you may not be aware about is that the Bums were oppressing the Hobos with an iron pick. Not a pick for a guitar playin’, but one of those fancy pick axes a miner might use to uncover some coal or perhaps gold. Regardless, we were being forced to make all our moonshine for those monsters while they stopped trains coming through for us to jump on and carry out our dreams, dreams of running through fields, napping on top of exotic animals, and drinking ourselves silly. Those days are long gone though! What happened was one day a brave Hobo, Hobo Max, got a grand idea to fill a bath tub up with apple juice. While it still looked dirty and brown like our moonshine, it lacked all sorts of alcohol. Much like how human folks breathe, and we ride trains to live, bums gotta be silly drunks all the time to keep their bodies functioning. Hobo Max used this to his advantage by smuggling in apples from the nearby apple orchard guarded by those pointy greyhounds. To get past those greyhounds though Hobo Max had to use all the wit in the land so he gathered us around an oil barrel one night and asked for our help. All we wanted to do was nap, but one person suggested a piñata in the form of Hobo Max and full of ham might distract them just long enough for Max to get those golden delicious.
The piñata was torn to shreds, the precious meat was devoured, but Max made it back safely with enough apples to choke a horse, which would be great if we were being suppressed by horses, but alas. So instead we had to work on making those apples into that fine apple juice. To make a long irrelevant story short, we stomped the juice out of those apples and filled up our finest bathtub with the fluid. We presented our tub-o-juice to the king bum, Harold. He stumbled around a bit and toppled into the tub to test the juice, as is the usual process. It past the initial tasting phase (bums can drink through their pores) and was carried into the town center for all the drink. Keep in mind, this bathtub was the size of a macaroni penguin. Assuming the macaroni penguin is about 100ft in diameter and bowl shaped and able to retain a bunch of liquid. Anyways, the bums all dove into the tub like it was an oasis in the middle of a desert. Obviously these bums were addicted. We kept our cool and let the refreshing, toxic cleansing juice take its course. In a matter of minutes the bums were shivering, shaking, sulking and just in a horrible mess because of the lack of booze. So we did what we hobos do best, loaded those bums up in makeshift wheel barrows and rolled them down to the tracks where we loaded them onto the rustiest coldest freight train we could fine. The train rolled away, and our freedom and hobo spirit returned to us. Hobo Max, full of the hobo spirit, hopped the first train out of there to spread the magic that is rail road ridin’. In his stead we have constructed a Hobo Max memorial statue that flows with the mooniest of moonshine.
So besides the horrible reign of bums, things have been going smooth around the hobo jungle. A Hobotution is being devised by some of the greatest hobos around; Hobo Moptop, Hobo Shoeswinger, Hobo Moon and his brother Hobo Shine are just a few of the elite working on it. They promise that this Hobotution will provide safety for the people, the box cars relatively clean, and plenty of moonshine. In an effort to promote unity among hobo young, a club known as the Rail Riding Youngins has formed. The RRY teaches young hobos the importance of always moving and exploring the world we have been placed on, while focusing on the fundamentals of being among hobos like the sharing of fires and pots and pans. Knowing that being a hobo can be frightening, they have developed a big hobo little hobo system where a bigger experienced hobos takes a young hobo in training out on rail road trips. Simply stunning! Stay tuned for more news concerning the goings on in your local hobo jungle, Moonshineopolis.
The (P)Irates
I’ve been living in Pittsburgh for pretty much the entirety of my life but I wouldn’t say I’m a sports connoisseur. I mean, I follow the teams but I couldn’t name every player three deep in the line up. Regardless, there is one thing I do know and that is that the Pirates consistently end their season with an embarrassing record. I can only imagine the Pirates hanging out with the Steelers and Penguins discussing their past seasons. All the teams have some crazy story to tell so to help organize things Malkin probably suggests using a talking stick (you can only talk if you have the stick). So as the teams passed around a worn hockey stick members of the Steelers would speak about their time winning the Super Bowl while the Penguins would talk about their exciting run at the Stanley Cup. And the Pirates? I suppose they would say something like, “Remember when Jason bay hit that grand slam and we then somehow managed to lose?” OR “Remember when we had a winning season?” The person who said that was probably inside a coffin. Because he would have to be so old. And on the verge of death.
To be fair, I’m not so sure people understand the tactics the Pirates employ during their games. They’re a fragile bunch with shattered dreams/hearts, etc. So I’m here to help clear up some of the Pirate confusion and maybe help bolster attendance at the same time.
First, when there are people on the bases that means there a lot of options of where to throw the ball. These options are nearly overwhelming. I mean who wants to have to pick between first, second and third base? Will the center fielder upset the second basemen by throwing it to first? It’s a possibility. So to remedy the situation? Clear the bases! As a leader, the pitcher is in charge of relieving stress on the field so he throws a couple of slow fast balls. Next thing we know there is a home run and a lot of weight off of everyone’s chest.
Second, some spectators may see people leaving during the middle of the game while the Pirates are down a few runs as an insult to their sacred team. Quite the contrary. How would you like it if hundreds of people came to your job to stare, clap and scream in your direction? You would be nervous, unsure of your next action, sweating (visibly), maybe stuttering a bit and your work would suffer for it. Hence the politeness of the spectators who leave the Pirates alone to work their magic.
Thirdly, so what if the Pirates lose a lot? Not every team can be a winner. If every team won then every team would be in the World Series which would be confusing and costly because then every team would need a parade in their home town. Suddenly the sanctity of the sport is gone. In this vein the Pirates are helping out everyone else and giving them a little boost. They’ve read books about winning and it doesn’t entice them. They’re just here to have a good time and throw a ball around and swing pieces of wood. This is also part of their PR Campaign that promotes losing as a hip cool thing that even adults do well.
So next time you’re at PNC Park ,enjoying the reward the Pirates received for being such good sports and hanging in their, keep in mind that he Pirate franchise is a little different than any other sporting franchise out there. And be careful of foul balls. Those things aim to kill.
Moon Chips (cont.)
Be sure to read Dan’t post below first. He’s the one who started this terrible mess.
When I was but a youngster my mom would come home with Sun Chips because she was trying to bring home a healthy alternative snack food. I don’t know if this was before the inception of flavored powder but she ALWAYS brought home the original. I loathed Sun Chips as a child. I would see that red bag and immediately, flashes of the last time I ate those flavorless crisps would forcably penetrate my mind.
This hatred of Sun Chips stuck with me for a while. Late in high school, I started experimenting with new things and decided to give these little monsters made of wheat that haunted my childhood another shot. I was pretty near rock bottom and I was willing to try them if they might give me that buzz I was looking for. Strangely enough I enjoyed them. I thought to myself “holy hell, mom was right. You actually do start to like stuff that tastes gross when you get old.” It wasn’t until much later that I found out those little waffers of wheat had been flavored with a deliciously artificial cheese like substance.
I too have had a recent run in with the original variety of Sun Chips, and let me tell you; I reached a very different conclusion than Dan did.
The perpatrator of this Sun Chip fiasco was, not unlike the prodigal son returning to give a big middle finger to his old man, my mother. I had returned home for a weekend to visit some friends and her unending concern for my imminent demise prompted her to buy me some food to return with. Somehow she though that as far as snacks were concerned, a bag of Cracker Jack (which I didn’t even know they made anymore) would go nicely with a bag of the original, tasteless, Sun Chips.
Like Dan, I eventually became very hungry and decided to crack open that bag o’ Sun Chips. Immediately the repressed memories of my childhood came rushing back like an avalanche made of spiders. I tried to eat them (the chips not the spiders) but just couldn’t, I was afraid that my gag reflex would soon overwhelm my self control. I hate the original “flavored” Sun Chips. I hate them with every fiber of my being.
More like Moon Chips
Bear with me cause this is about to get deep and there isn’t a life guard on duty.
(on a side note is it “bear” or “bare”? I ain’t lookin that up.)
I was recently given a bag of Sunchips as a gift. It was/is a great gift and I feel that if more people gave snack foods as gifts the world would be way more understanding and accepting. Gift giving could be simplified to the point that a trip to the grocery store also qualifies as Christmas shopping! But I digress.
This bag of chips was of the “original” variety which, funnily enough, has no variety at all. None. There are nearly dozens of types of Sunchips for purchase the best being harvest cheddar. The way those chips fill you with zing is is indescribable and not to mention the cheddar residue it leaves behind on your fingers like a little parting gift. Garden Salsa is also a nice flavor. It’s a Sunchip imbued with the power of salsa. Talk about bad ass.
Today for lunch I packed some of these “original” Sunchips. Mostly out of sheer desperation of calories. I want to share my experience with you.
The first few chips I munched on were sub par. I was immediately dissapointed that they were not covered in harvested cheddar. I was appaled that these even existes and ashamed I was eating these in front of other human beings. I was hungry though and it would take much more than a lack of cheese powder to slow my hunger.
I continued eating them unsure of where this would get me. It was just a hard piece of wheat after all, but the saltiness began to grow on me. It was still the same texture, but was missing that lil’ kick I got from the harvest cheddar. Still, I continue to eat them. There is a soft kind of addiction I can associate with this chip. Where I can eat any other chip without a second thought, these chips give my brain the necessary thought power to think about the task at hand.
So I must say that I cannot penalize these chips for lacking the cheddar powder, because their nakedness is their secret. This nothingness is necessary for deep thought and insight to take place. This chip doesn’t bother to cloud the mind or senses with unnecessary cheese powder. It is so basic in its presentation that clouded thoughts can now jet through my mind as though it were a highway.
I am thankful for these chips and may think about eating them again. When I have some thinking to do.
Was this weird for anyone else?
Do Work, Son
One of the things that Dan and I think could end up making this blog interesting is our chosen career paths. As you can see from Dan’s last post, he’s trying to get into that whole journalism thing, the kid can write so I guess it works for him. My direction is politics (I know, I’m the spawn of the devil for wanting to be anywhere near politics). The media and politicians have a pretty tenuous relationship, so it could be cool.
The main problem here is that neither one of us actually has a job.
I guess we’re on the right track though. Dan’s got his internship goin on and I just had a pretty promising interview. This is right back in the vein of stuff that pretty much everyone has to do, but I think it’s blogworthy.
I had my first real interview a couple of days ago. Everyone has those interviews they have to sit through when they go to work at drivethrough X, or retailer Y, or that time they were in a porno, but you pretty much know you’re gonna get the job. This was a lot more stressful than I remember any of those being (except maybe the porno). So I drove down to Washington D.C to interview with an organization that will remain nameless and interviewed for over 2 hours. 2 hours of questions, comments and hypothetical situations. It all went well though, I think I made a good impression on everyone I talked to. By far, the toughest part was my last interviewer. I was supposed to meet with the Executive VP of the company, which I was pretty stressed about already… I mean, the guy is number 2 in charge of the whole joint. Apparently, the fates conspired against me and he was called out, so instead I got to meet with the President, CEO, and founder of the organization…”Jesus”.
Ok… from that sentence it looks like I met with Jesus. I did not meet with the proported son of God, rather, I exclaimed “Jesus.”
The guy asked the kinds of questions you would expect from the President of a multi-million dollar organization. It was rough, but I think I did ok. Once I was done they told me they’d be interviewing one more person next week and that I should know if I got the job shortly after that.
In the famous words of Homer Simpson, “The waiting game sucks. Let’s play Hungry Hungry Hippos.”
A Day in the Life
What is life like for a young, ambitious editing intern? Surely it must be full of mystery, spell checking, grammar exercises, a hurried lunch, and lurking deadlines. I took the liberty of documenting my work day for your pleasure. I may set the bar too high for everyone else out there and for that I am sorry.
7:00 am Initial alarm goes off. I don’t have to be at work until 9am and it is only a 10 minute walk. I hit the snooze.
7:10 - 8:30 am has been snoozed through. I am sick of my alarm song (You got yr. cherry bomb by Spoon)
8:40 am Check today’s Woot.
8:50 am Construct lunch (Peanut Butter & Banana, Twix bar, Turkey Sammich, Nature Valley bar)
8:53 am Shower, brush teeth.
9:00 am Leave house. If I could teleport I’d be right on time.
9:15 am Arrive at work. Log into Gmail and e-mail Marie and Pat. Hopefully they will respond and keep me occupied.
9:30 am Open up Excel sheet I need to be working on. Google “Key West Spring Break” and click open a bunch of windows. The perfect decoy.
10:00 am I am hungry. I contemplate eating half of Twix. They put two in there for a reason.
10:10 am I resolve that I am going to wait until lunch to eat the Twix. I will regret it if I eat it now.
10:15 am Write E-mails to Marie, and check out some running web sites. My co-workers are laughing and I am too nervous to laugh with them.
10:30 am Think about dead end future. I scourer job websites for a glimmer of hope. I only find the reassurance that is unemployment. Sucks.
10:45 am In my desperation I devour a Twix. I am careful not to crinkle the wrapper and make too much noise.
11:30 am I somehow finish the project I was working on and am tasked with facting things about “South Lake Tahoe.” Never heard of it.
12:15 pm LUNCH
1:30 pm I have made a grave mistake and took my other Twix bar onto the roof with me. The hot sun infested roof. It melted. I put it in the freezer as a last resort, but I fear the Twix will not make it…
2:35 pm Realized I just spent an hour reading a Gamasutra article. Must now locate South Lake Tahoe
2:50 pm Found article about the technique of shucking corn. Eyes getting heavy
2:55 pm Checked on Twix. It is frozen. Horribly disfigured. I put it out of its misery.
3:26 pm tried to sneeze. Did not happen. I am kind of embarrassed.
4:00 pm Tab though internet explorer windows. I wish someone stabbed me.
5:05 pm Waited five minutes to leave so I did not look too eager.
WOAH! What a day! Maybe tomorrow will be more exciting and I’ll get thrown out of a window! Or Knifed!
Gr-Gr-Gr-Grandma!
I learned a lot about my Grandma today.
We played cards together and she was livid that the hand she held had eight cards to my two. She was even on the verge of cussing. I have never heard this wrinkled lady say anything dirtier than “Holy Moses” or “Awww Shucks.” She has fallen down steps, burnt dinner, and struggles to get up from a chair. Yet, the one thing that makes her audibly more mad than anything is a card game. She picked up a card and after surveying the play area she lets out a repressed, “DAMNIT.”
My gramsters was starring at the TV while a soccer (football) game was going on. The Euro Cup to be specific. And she’s all like, “Are those boys playing volleyball?”
No Grandma. Those boys are playing the opposite of volleyball.
She transfers milk from the carton to a smaller glass to make room for her stockade of Jell-O molds. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her make any, and I know I stopped eating them long ago so I can only imagine what use those are put to. 80% of sewer Jell-O is from my grandmother.
Today we ate some home made wedding soup together and she insisted that I eat with the smaller spoon. I don’t know where in her upbringing she was taught that using the small spoon is a privilege for the guest, but I felt flattered. Perhaps she can still manage to teach me things from the “old world” that I can apply to my current gen.
She just called my laptop a “lap computer.”
In the swirl of Mr. Magooness and old timers naivety she can provide some odd insight that turns my young brain on its side. As I was leaving her home to go play some cards with the gang she asked me, “What did you mother ever see in your father?” I looked at her in disbelief. Did she really ask me such an oddly personal question?
She may struggle to get around the house but she reeks of honesty. She tells me how fat my dad is getting, how it’s terrible to get old and that I should never attempt it. She isn’t afraid to talk of her death, and sometimes she is almost too accepting of it. As old as she is, she actively ignores the lady up the street who calls four times a day to talk to her. She’s a Grandma and here she is ignoring people! I would have never thought that was possible.
So now I wonder. Am I going to be a replica of her one day? Where I have no idea what sport those crazy kids are playing? Will I try to give my grandthing more mashed potatoes because when I was their age I wanted more mashed potatoes? I can see myself sitting across the room from my grandchildren with their super holographic/brain contraptions wondering what the hell is happening, and when I’m going to die. Holla!
On Cars and Crashing Them
I promised I’d blog about my car crash, so I guess that’s what I’m doing.
As weird as it sounds, one of the first things I thought of after I crashed my car, right after I checked to make sure I still had all of my bones (I have them numbered for just such an occasion), was that it would be something cool to blog about. That thought was actually made even more strange due to the fact that I didn’t actually have a blog yet. But I’m getting side tracked. Back to the twisting of metal.
…
I just wrote out the story of how I crashed my car and, I’ll be honest with you, it isn’t interesting. Not even a little. I sat here for about 20 minutes thinking about how to use more ‘active verbs’ or ‘flowery language’ or ‘porno’ in order to force the story to be interesting, but it just isn’t happening. What is interesting is this: I had fun crashing my car. The last thing I planned on doing that day was slamming the back end of my car into the concrete divider of a highway at 60 mph, and I’d certainly never do it on purpose. But even right after it happened, I kinda thought to myself, ”that was pretty effin’ cool.” Imagine a roller coaster ride where from begining to end you are fully aware that you very well could die right where you sit. That sounds a bit morbid reading back over it, but I’m telling you, a car crash is the purist’s roller coaster.
You can pay to jump out of planes, it won’t be long before people start buying tickets to slam late model American cars into obstacles on a highway.
The End (continued)
After I wrote the title to this post I realized that it might, at first glance, be mistaken for some really dark/emo entry. Hopefully, you, the reader, have had the patience to read past the title and realize that it’s not (for those of you who were actually looking for something emo to brighten up your day with…sorry(?)).
I’ve come to the realization recently that a number of things in my life are ending pretty abruptly. I mean, most of them I either saw coming or were supposed to end by now, but I’m not exactly one to prepare ahead of time. The big one is my shift in lifestyle. For the past 4 years I’ve been a college student, doing all the things that college students do (the ones that aren’t lame at least). Now I’m getting a real j.o.b and I’m supposed to get drunk considerably less frequently. More importantly I’m moving to a city in which I know a total of about 3 people.
I feel kind of silly blogging about this, it is something that pretty much everyone does at one point or another. I don’t really know what I expect people to say when I tell them about it “Wow! you graduated from college this year like millions of other people? And now you’re pursuing a career?!? What are you? Out of your god damned mind?!?”
Still.
One thing that did end recently (to my surprise) was the existence of my car. For now, suffice it to say that I crashed it. Maybe I’ll blog out that story a little later.
Anyway, think I’m gonna go home and play Dolphin Olympics 2.
Pat Washington
